gave upon the dearest and most memorable of occasions; and she spoke with such pleasure and gratitude of the sweet condescension she then experienced, that she charmed and delighted me, and we struck up an intimacy without further delay. Our theme was always ready, and I only regretted that I could see her but seldom, as she lived two or three miles out of Joigny, at Cesy, in the small château of la ci-devant Princesse de Beaufremont, a lady with whom I had had the honour of making acquaintance in Paris, and who is one of those who suffered most during the horrors of the revolution. At the dreadful period when all the rage was to burn the property and title-deeds of the rich and high-born, her noble château, one of the most considerable in France, was utterly consumed, and all her papers, that no record of her genealogy might remain, were committed, with barbarous triumph, to the flames: yet was this, such is her unhappy fate, the least of her misfortunes; her eldest daughter, a beautiful young creature, upon whom she doated, was in the château at this horrible period, and forced to make her escape with such alarm and precipitance, that she never recovered from the excess of her terror, which robbed her of her life before she was quite seventeen years of age! Around the small and modest château de Cesy, in which Madame de Beaufremont and her youngest and now only daughter, Madame de Listenois, at present reside, the grounds have been cultivated in the English style; and the walks, now shady, now open, now rising, now descending, with water, bridges, cascades, and groves, and occasional fine picturesque views from the banks of the Yonne, are all laid out with taste and pretty effects. We strolled over them with a large party, till we came to a little recess. Madame de Beaufremont then took me by the arm, and we separated from the company to enter it together, and she showed me an urn surrounded with cypress trees and weeping willows, watered by a clear, small, running rivulet, and dedicated to the memory of her first-born and early-lost lamented daughter. Poor lady! she seems entirely resigned to all the rest of her deprivations, but here the wound is incurable! yet, this subject apart, she is cheerful, loves society, or rather social discourse, with a chosen few, and not only accepts with pleasure whatever may enliven her, but exerts herself to contribute all that is in her power to the entertainment of others. She has still preserved enough from the wreck of her possessions to live elegantly, though not splendidly; and her table is remarkably well served. She has a son-in-law, M. de Listenois, whom I did not see; but her remaining daughter, Madame de Listenois, is a very fine young woman. Madame de Souza has spent the whole summer with these ladies. She told me she liked England so very much, and was so happy during the six weeks she passed there, that she wept bitterly on quitting it. She was received, she says, at court in the most bewitching manner, and she delights in retracing her honours, and her sense of them. She is still so very handsome, though sickly and suffering, that I imagine she must then have been exquisitely beautiful. I am told, by a French officer who has served in Spain, M. de Meulan, that when she left that country she was reckoned the most celebrated beauty of Madrid. I had another new acquaintance at Joigny, also, in a 66 lady who came from Auxerre, as she was pleased to say to see me, Madame La Villheurnois, widow of M. La Villheurnois, who was amongst the unhappy objects déportés, by the order of the Directory, à la Guyane. As soon as the first civilities were over, she said, “ Permettez, Madame! connaissez vous Sidney?"* I could not doubt who she meant, though there is no avoiding a smile at this drolly concise way of naming a man by his nom de baptême. She was extremely surprised when I answered no; telling me she had concluded "que tout le monde en Angleterre" must know Sidney! Yes, I said, by character certainly; but personally I had never the gratification of meeting with him. She told me she was intimately acquainted with him herself, from seeing him continually when he was confined in the Temple, as she attended there her "malheureux époux;" and she saw also, she said, " son valet, et son jockey," whom she never suspected to be disguised emigrants, watching to aid his escape. "Surtout," she added, "comme le jockey avait des trous aux bas terribles;" which induced her daughter to buy him a new pair of stockings for charity. A gentleman who accompanied her to Joigny, her secretary, told me he had played at ball with Sidney every day for six months, while he also attended upon poor M. La Villheurnois. When we parted, she begged me, as soon as I returned to England, "d'aller voir Sidney pour lui faire ses reproches de ce qu'il n'avait pas répondu à sa lettre," though she was sure it had been delivered to him, because her son had given it lui-même to "Spencer," when he passed through Paris on his return from Constantinople. *Sir Sidney Smith. |